


The Constellation of Romance

by valistus



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-20
Updated: 2016-10-20
Packaged: 2018-08-19 06:56:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8194684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/valistus/pseuds/valistus
Summary: It began as love often does, subtle, with whiffs of lavender and honey. But just as love becomes a spiral of maddening events, Draco must find a way to convince Hermione that she is destined to be with him, or succumb to the death all Veelas face when rejected by a mate.





	

**Author's Note:**

> **Prompt:** #[70](http://hp-creatures.livejournal.com/267482.html?thread=1483226#t1483226)
> 
> **Creature:** Veela
> 
> **Disclaimer:** This creation is based on characters and situations created and owned by J. K. Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros. Inc. No money is being made, no copyright or trademark infringement, or offense is intended. All characters depicted in sexual situations are above the age of consent.
> 
> **Notes:** This story was gutted and changed various times over, but it was ridiculously fun to write. Thanks so much to Corazon for reading through it countless times in an effort to erase most of my typos (we may have missed a few). Also, the last lines that Dramione speak are not mine. I altered those words from a lovely post I found on tumblr that the Greeks would often say. Without further ado, I hope you all enjoy!

 

"There are millions of ways to bleed. But you are by far my favorite."  
—Ian S. Thomas, _I Wrote This for You_

**Part I**

A soft, methodical tapping sound infiltrated the otherwise quiet atmosphere of Draco’s quaint office. The wizard was almost certain he’d read the same sentence various times over. His fingers pinched the bridge of his nose in a feeble attempt to stifle the pounding headache he was currently suffering. His body ached and he wanted nothing more than drown his discomfort with a bottle of firewhisky.

He sighed dejectedly as his fingers gripped one side of a silver metronome that sat on the corner of his desk. He’d come across the contraption during one of his outings into London when studying various muggle laws. It was something he’d learned to do early on in his studies, finding that his world of law was a bit more primitive than that of muggles.

Draco turned twenty-five today and instead of preparing for a night of drunken endeavors with his Slytherin brothers, he was picturing the comfort of his bed. Things really did change when one grew older, the defense attorney mused.

The edges of his palms pressed against his eyes. Bursts of light danced in his vision as his lids remained closed for a moment longer. It wasn’t long before he felt a small surge of energy course through him again. Holding the affidavit up to his line of vision once more, he skimmed with minimal interest until he realized his clients were sorted into Slytherin.

 

_…Defendants found in possession of their wands outside of Hogwarts grounds…_

_….proceeded to obliviate the muggle …_

"Shite," he muttered as his free hand jotted notes. His elegant script stained the parchment with every stroke of his wrist.

This was going to be a tougher case than what he’d first anticipated. Now that he knew the children were Slytherin, things would be exceedingly difficult come their trial date. But Draco was not put off by the challenge. This was the very reason he’d decided to become a defense attorney in the Ministry. His own trial after the war had practically been a farce. He’d almost been shipped to Azkaban without proper representation. If it hadn’t been for the Golden Trio coming to his aid he would very well be there this instant. It was in that moment, when he was standing before an array of judging eyes, with chains biting into his wrists that he realized the importance of law. He realized that if he made it out he would dedicate his life to help those who were sometimes forced into their beliefs. Most people just didn’t understand to repercussions of being raised by a family such as his own. He’d been bred to hate and loathe what was deemed dirt and everyone assumed that he was just like his father. Yes, he’d done  
some unspeakable things and his ability to curse objects and trap people under an imperious were instances that did not help his case but for Salazar’s sake, he’d been a kid—they all had. Luckily, that was how the Golden Trio had helped sway the Wizengamot.

Two years of probation and restricted use of his magic.

But that seemed like ages ago to the wizard now. He was very good at what he did, with only two cases lost. Though he was quite sure those cases were lost because of corruption within the Ministry. Such things could not be helped.

A sudden tickling sensation bloomed in his nose. Lavender and honey wafted in the air. The scent caused confusion to stir within the wizard. He was most certain there would be nothing in his office to cause those particular fragrances. And now that he thought about it, he’d been catching small whiffs of the scent this week. It seemed that today the smell grew stronger.

He’d tally that strange occurrence to his lack of sleep.

His eyes glanced at the muggle clock above his office door–a gift one of his co-workers had given him when he’d won a substantial case. It wouldn’t be long now until he was up to no good with his friends–and hopefully, without the company of his headache.

Two hours later, Draco rose from his seat, arms outstretched above his head in hopes the motion would release the knot in his back. He shuffled the notes in his desk meticulously, placing each piece of parchment in concise positions. Without sparing another glance at his work, he headed towards the ministry corridors.

The ache in his body intensified with each step he took through the halls. It felt like the times he'd spent mercilessly training for quidditch. Draco made a mental note to brew up some healing potions when he got to his flat. He silently wondered if he should alert his mother but quickly decided against it. Merlin knew he would never get that woman out of his hair if he informed her of his current state. She was already nagging his ear off with prospects of marriage. And he was equally as proficient in his potion-making skills as she. The wizard knew that with one quick swig of his own concoction he’d be feeling back to normal.

Laughter broke out in his proximity and it was the most wondrous sound to have ever graced his ears. His nose suddenly flared as the scent of lavender and honey infiltrated his nostrils again. This time however, it filled his anatomy with a surge of happiness—a happiness he’d never felt in his life. And all at once he felt panic, panic because he was frightened that whatever or _whoever_ was causing this feeling would disappear, and the fleeting thought of that happening made the wizard nauseous. Draco stopped dead in his tracks, silver eyes wide as they searched every corner of his immediate surroundings. It was then that he saw her–it was then that their eyes met. Hermione’s smiling gaze shifted from Ron to him. It was a passing glance, of course, but when their eyes met something cracked inside of Draco. It was like tunnel vision. Everyone else grew faint as his senses sharpened in on her.

The pain he’d felt throughout the day suddenly intensified. His knees buckled as his skin grew inflamed with an unknown fire. The palm of his hand pressed against the cool, marble floor as he steadied himself. He felt a rumbling in his chest and in the back of his consciousness he found it sounded almost like a growl. His mind grew hazy, realizing a new intruder thundered against his cranium.

_"Mate."_

The spectators formed a small circle around the kneeling man. Draco’s gaze rose toward Hermione and instantly he growled when he noticed her fingers digging into Ron’s forearm. Despite the paralyzing pain, he rose to his feet with murderous eyes. He wanted to end the life of every wizard that stood too close to Hermione. He wanted to be the reason she laughed as she did earlier and he definitely wanted to be the only one she smiled at.

The group of spectators took tentative steps back, deciding it best not to intrude in whatever was happening to the man. The lack of action was not because society found him to be a bad person—not completely. But he was a private man, immensely so. He was cordial when spoken to and often helpful when asked questions. Yet the wizard chose to keep to himself and that was perfectly fine with all those who worked in the ministry. Better a reserved Draco than a plotting one.

Hermione frowned, her gaze momentarily settling on Ron before glancing back at Draco. Carefully, with her hand gripping her wand she took a step towards him and the movement caused a positive reaction from Draco.

"’Mione! Stand back! Look at his eyes. Are you crazy?" The ginger made a move to grip her forearm and Draco lost it. Balls of fire blasted through the skin of both palms, leaving black, menacing stains on the marble floor. Gasps broke through the silence but Hermione was not completely shaken. The woman was after all head of the Magical Creatures & Safety Division. She was the one they called when rambunctious magical creatures caused trouble in their environment. Her last run in had been with a clan of vampires and a week later she was still spending ages administering pleasant smelling potions to ride the stench of garlic. Vampires seemed to have a sense of humor.

Hermione fought her panic, simmering it down. Draco was just a disgruntled wizard and whatever was wrong could not be as bad as facing a clan of vampires. She continued her stride towards him. It seemed that everyone else was too shocked by his display to do anything and she briefly wondered why she was taking it upon herself to help him. Hermione never really interacted with the man these days, usually busy herself with her own priorities, but when they did run into each other they were at least amicable. There was something in the way his eyes were assessing her. She had a vague notion in the back of her mind that although seeming dangerous; Draco wasn't going to hurt her.

The witch held her palm out to show that she meant no harm while the other gripped her wand tightly, pressing it to the side of her thigh. "Malfoy, don’t do anything rash. Whatever is ailing you we’ll figure it out, okay? I need you to calm down."

Yes! He would do anything that she asked. He would walk barefoot through winter nights and swim long distances if it meant she was happy, if it meant–Merlin! What was happening to him? All he could feel was a rush of calm when he took hold of the hand she offered him. He was quick to pull her to him and the abrupt reaction caused Hermione to stumble into his arms.

His eyes were celestial, an array of amber and silver dancing within them. She was absolutely captivated. It was as though he'd just promised her the world as he held her securely against his hard chest. His height caused him to loom over her smaller frame but Hermione was not frightened, on the contrary, she hadn’t felt so safe in…well, she _never_ had felt this safe before. His look was filled with such tenderness that it welled her chest with a foreign emotion but before she could decipher it, Ron’s voice broke through her unforeseen halt of rationality.

"Hermione!" Ron yelled, taking a step forward, eyes wide with fear. The Auror was beside himself with worry.

A murderous screech broke through Draco’s lips as he tightened his hold on the woman. She yelped out when she felt the pang of something sharp dig into her waist. The illusion she’d been placed in ripped through her and a crippling fear bubbled under the woman’s skin. Hearing her in distress caused Draco’s chest to tighten, realizing his talons had dug into her skin. His hold loosened and he nuzzled her neck in a silent apology.

In the back of his mind he was slightly panicked at the realization that he’d grown talons.

Hermione placed both hands on his chest, eyes scanning the room in embarrassment. She had a vague notion of what was happening but she quickly shoved it to the deepest crevices of her mind. There was no possible way! She would not voice the theory that sprang into her mind, especially since it was such a rare occurrence and most especially because if she was correct--

Merlin she wasn’t even going to finish that horrendous thought.

The witch returned her tentative attention to Draco who was currently throwing a series of snarls at Ron. She could feel his hands grow hot against her waist and she knew that a fresh set of fire balls were probably on the verge of spitting out from his palms if she didn’t do something. She swallowed, shuddering against him before placing both hands on either side of his face, willing his eyes to return her stare.

_"Safe. Mate is safe,"_ the new being within Draco purred.

"Malfoy? Please, I need you to relax. Will you do that—," oh Merlin, she swallowed again, her lips quivering as they stretched into a brief smile. "Will you do that for me?"

The blonde wizard was silent for a long moment, head dipping close to her with a dreamy look on his face. He inched his mouth towards her, lips parted as he whispered out, "anything for mate." It was so soft that Hermione briefly wondered if she’d imagined it, but was soon distracted when his lips slanted over hers. His fingers ran through her unruly locks and Hermione realized his talons were gone. His lips continued to move against hers and she wasn’t sure what was more curious—the fact that Draco Malfoy was kissing her in the middle of the Ministry corridors or the fact that she was actually kissing him back.

"You’re absolutely beautiful," he murmured against her lips. His tone was filled with reverence and his kiss was absolutely holy. Was this what Nirvana felt like? Hermione once read several books on religion growing up. She’d never had anything to compare the theories on until this moment. The feel of his lips against hers was absolutely heavenly. She mimicked his movements, digging her fingers through forests of silky, blonde hair. Draco purred, hand pushing her head closer to his so that he could better deepen the kiss between them.

Draco was both fascinated and horrified by how good she felt in his arms. A sense of clarity washed over him as his lips found hers. He had the biggest urge to wrap himself around her so that she would always be with him. This was completion. This was the culmination of all the terrible shite he'd ever been subjected to. From now on he would protect the precious witch within his arms. He would love her with every fiber and cell that composed his body. This was his destiny. It was written in the stars.

_Fuck, fuck, fuck!_ He pushed against the maddening notions that were currently floating within his mind. He hadn't the faintest idea where these illicit thoughts were coming from but he needed to—Great Founders could this woman kiss.

Logic be damned! The feel of her pouty lips on his was far too pleasurable to even care of the repercussions that would surely follow. He growled against her lips when a soft whimper escaped hers. Fingers digging into the nape of her neck, he angled her for better access.

A sudden, prickling pain surged in Draco’s back. He pushed Hermione away, but not without holding onto her shoulders. His eyes flared with anger. The wizard glared over his shoulders. A menacing growl filled the air as the sight of Harry Potter holding his wand firmly pointed in the Veela’s direction came into view.

"Malfoy…whatever you’re planning know that it will not end well for you. Let Hermione go."

Draco pressed the witch against his chest. She was still dizzy from the kiss, eyes fluttering as she gripped his suit jacket in a feeble effort to remain upright. A rip echoed through the corridor and Draco howled in pain. Wings burst from his back earning gasps from the spectators. The scaly wings were opal, shimmering beautifully against the gleaming light the corridors offered. They flapped once before encircling the duo. Draco would not allow anyone to harm the woman. He would kill them with his bare hands if it meant keeping her safe. She was too precious—too vital. These thoughts frightened the wizard but they were too overpowering to stop.

Hermione shook her head frantically. The stupor faded and reality came tumbling into her. Her theory popped into her mind once more, this time with much more certainty. Dread gripped her bones and she pushed Draco away with all her might. But her movements were in vain for no sooner had she attempted to break away did Draco press her tighter against him, grumbling out, "must protect mate."

Harry shot another set of tranquilizing hexes at him and after the tenth one Draco’s hold on the woman grew loose. Before he could retaliate his eyes fluttered and soon he crashed into the floor along with Hermione, landing right on top of her in a heap of dead weight. She fell with a squeak of surprise.

It was going to be a long night apparently.

**Part II**

The crackling of a hearty fire woke Draco. His eyes fluttered as his vision grew less blurry by the second. The sheets underneath him felt so soft. Where was he? And more importantly, how had he gotten there? He wondered if the blackout was a result of all the alcohol he’d probably consumed with his friends. Draco was almost relieved he didn’t remember a thing. He sighed, burrowing under the mountain of blankets that covered his body. At least his drunken self had a sense to make it to the bed this time. Last time he’d gone out with Nott he’d ended up sleeping under the bed as opposed to _on_ it.

As his eyes closed, he happily noted the lack of a pounding hangover. He failed to realize he was still dressed in the dark robes he'd been wearing at the Ministry. There was a certain lassitude that settled within his anatomy as he attempted to lose himself in sleep. Something would not allow him peace, something he couldn’t put his finger on. He closed his luminescent, silver eyes again, racking his brain for a memory of last night but all he could seem to remember was—

_Mate._

A plethora of shuddersome emotions gripped his bones. Without another thought he stumbled out of bed despite the protests of his sore body. He realized then where the panic stemmed from. A series of foggy memories began to disperse from his mind as anguish washed over him. His mate—the center of his universe was not in his proximity and the thought confused Draco. Something had awoken within him last night. Had it been last night? He wasn’t even sure how long he’d been out. As the anxiety rose he heard his mother’s muffled voice behind the door. It was then that Draco realized he was in his old room.

Narcissa Malfoy opened the door with an air of elegance that only a Malfoy woman could hold. A scowl adorned her usually passive features as she crossed the threshold. "Don’t you dare place the blame on me Lucius!" His parents grew still when they realized Draco was awake. Relief flooded the witch as she closed the distance between the two. Her soft hands brushed errant strands of locks from his eyes as she looked up at him with tears welling in hers.

"I’m so very sorry, darling. I hadn't the faintest idea."

"So it wasn’t a dream? The incident at the Ministry…it really did happen?"

A familiar panic filled his chest again, and he huffed out a short, painful gasp as the hollowness filled him again. The action caused Narcissa to choke back a sob, her aristocratic fingers pressing against quivering lips. His Veela was in mourning it seemed, confused and unhappy with the whereabouts of his mate. Seeing her precious son in such a state brought a wave of sadness. Her Veela felt for man.

"Darling, your heritage has awoken." Draco was silent, brows furrowed in confusion. "I beg your pardon?"

His mother swallowed thickly before continuing, "I’m a Veela, darling, a full-blooded Veela. You see, Veela are usually women. It’s very rare for a male to be a Veela and I never thought twice about you being one, especially since you never grew sick from Veela Pox as a child."

"Veela Pox?" She was sounding madder with every word that spilled from her lips. His eyes were wide in a daze.

"It’s a temporary illness that all Veela acquire at the age of two. Awful blemishes, really, I was quite relieved to know you never obtained them. This is all very curious, darling. I shouldn’t have assumed."

He was silent for a long while, eyes boring holes into the expensive French tapestry his mother insisted he get many years ago. There were far too many thoughts racing in his mind. He was familiar with Veela, having read books he’d found in their library on occasion and it made sense now, why such substantial amounts of Veela books decorated his family’s library.

A frightening realization dawned on the wizard then. His stomach churned as he became aware of the fact that if he did not claim and marry his chosen mate by the light of the next full moon he would perish.

Hermione’s flushed face danced in his mind’s eye. His Veela purred as he recalled how her little hands pushed up against his chest when he kissed her. Exuberant memories of the incident played vividly in his mind the longer he thought of the witch. He almost felt mortified with the fact that everyone would now know what he was and what transpired between the two. But under that mortification laid a satisfied gleam of possessiveness. His Veela was ebullient with the fact that now the entire Ministry knew not to touch _his_ witch.

"Draco, dear…I know this is an awful lot of information I’ve just given you. But you must know, your Veela heritage has awoken quite aggressively. You’ll be capable of killing a man in cold blood if he so much as looks at your mate before you claim her. Such aggressive traits are only attributed to Alpha Veela."

He supposed it made sense. The thought of killing Ron had crossed his mind when the fool made a move to separate Hermione from him and he wouldn’t have minded ending Harry in a ferocious manner for throwing those damn hexes that ceased his delicious kissing session with Hermione.

Hermione.

Simply thinking of her caused an ache to take hold within his chest. The need to find her was becoming unbearable for the wizard.

"Where is she?"

Narcissa was silent, casting her furious gaze to the floor. It was obvious that the answer was not a good one and he expected as such. It wasn’t as though she would come willingly to a place she was once tortured in. The memory of that night sparked within his mind and it nearly made him sick. Had his aunt still been alive, he would have gone to her this instant and killed her in the most grotesque of ways for touching his mate in such a manner.

Lucius walked with cool strides towards his son, a bored expression masked his aristocratic features. He placed a hand on his wife’s shoulder, sensing the anger that raided from her petite frame. The elder wizard pursed his lips in thought before breaking through the silence, "Miss Granger is under the impression that there’s been some sort of mistake. She’s refused to follow her mate and instead left with that pretentious little twit, Potter."

Fury engulfed Draco. His lips curled up into a menacing snarl as jealousy stabbed him repeatedly. He wanted to rip the throat from Potter’s body and watch the prick’s blood stain his pale fingers. How dare that fool take Hermione from him! He would not live to see the next day; Draco was going to make sure of it. True, Hermione would not have been his first choice as his life-long mate but the idea wasn’t completely unsettling. She had a peculiar beauty—not over the top but subtle, like the moon during sunny days. She was a damn fine witch and excelled in everything she set out to do. Draco often heard of her endeavors throughout the office. It was obvious why the Veela had chosen her—she was the best and Draco was accustomed to only that.

It was odd; really, that his father did not voice his disdain to the fact that a muggle would be his son’s mate. Instead, he simply seemed displeased with the fact that she was being difficult—unwilling to accept what it meant to be a Veela’s mate. Perhaps Veela heritage trumped blood status. And how could it not? Now that his Veela found its mate, Draco’s life was dangling by a thread.

"What will you do, son?" Lucius’ tone was flat, but Draco saw the taunt that swirled within his eyes. The faintest of smirks ghosted on his father’s lips and though it mattered little these days what his father thought of him, Draco had never been one to back down from a taunt, regardless of who it came from.

"It’s quite obvious, isn’t it father?"

He would claim the witch and no amount of masochistic martyrs would impede him from obtaining her. Hermione was born for Draco and that was a fact he was going to make her aware of. 

*** &*&*&*&***

Scattered books lay in disarray around Hermione's bed. Parchments of scribbled notes decorated the outskirts of her mattress as she went over all the books in her possession concerning Veelas. Crookshanks watched his human companion from his perch on the nightstand. Hermione's stomach churned with each word her cinnamon colored eyes took in. She’d already been well versed with Veelas and what their mating rituals consisted of, but now, the witch questioned everything, hoping to Godric that there was a chance the day’s events may have been a mistake—some sort of Veela Hysteria that caused Draco to lose all reason. Surely if he’d been in his right mind he would’ve never said the things he had. He would have never kissed her.

The sudden memory caused her lips to tingle. She frowned as the tips of her fingers traced the part of her flesh that had molded against his. Silver eyes began to appear in her mind vividly as longing took hold of her anatomy. A surge of panic took hold of the woman as she realized she was beginning to miss the bastard. Merlin, that meant that she was indeed his mate.

No, absolutely not, Hermione thought. She pressed her palms over her face as a state of frenzy took a hold of her.

Of all the things that could have happened when dealing with unstable magical beings, she had to be tangled with the one man she never spoke to on a regular basis! They were perfect strangers these days for Godrick’s sake. What would he have her do? Happily fall over his charming Veela antics and give herself to him? He was a foul git to her all through their childhood and now she was expected to mate with him because he fancied himself her one and only true mate?

Ridiculous!

She would transfer to France under a new alias, start a new path and eventually become the Minister of Magic in the new country. It was doable, and the challenge brought a wave of brief excitement with it. But as her hypothetical life took flight in her mind, Hermione found her heart growing heavy with guilt. Draco soon replaced the images of France and his cold, stormy eyes pressed against her conscious.

A wave of anguish and guilt borrowed into her skin. And as the witch stared hopelessly onto the sea of books and notes that surrounded her, Hermione knew with a heavy heart that she could never bear the self-condemnation of killing him with her rejection. She would love him eventually, yes—that notion was a given considering she was his mate and the effects of his Veela magic would soon take hold of her. But, she'd always pictured herself falling in love in a sort of serendipitous way where she would be sitting in her favorite café with her favorite book in hand, savoring the spicy tea on her tongue until she saw him, love walking in with promises of happiness following.

Frustrated with the turn of events, she stumbled out of her bed and made her way to the floo in hopes someone would want to come over and drown in sorrows and potent amounts of wine with her. But as she stood before the fireplace and prepared to make a call, she did not fail to notice the subtle way her heart filled with amorous emotions when the memory of his breathless promises of love filled her mind again.

She huffed out, pulling her hair into a high ponytail before she headed to the kitchen in search a bottle of her strongest liquor. A bit of liquid courage never hurt anyone.

*** &*&*&*&***

Crookshanks purred rhythmically, paws kneading the side of Hermione’s pillow as she slept; engulfed under a duvet Molly Weasley knitted her one Christmas. The feline glanced at the witch as she mumbled incoherent words into her pillow, pulling it tighter against her chest. Stretching on its hind legs, he scratched his ear once and licked his paw before jumping off the bed with stealth. Gently he padded over to the door and sat a few feet before it, staring at the wooden barrier in the stillness of the night.

Someone was coming.

**Part III**

Hermione was having the most pleasant dream. Laughter radiated from the woman as she ran through a soft meadow. The morning’s dew wet her bare feet as she glanced behind to catch a glimpse of her chaser. The sky was a dazzling shade of blue that complimented the man who was currently in pursuit of her.

But just as he was inches away from grabbing her did he stop dead in his tracks. The wind shifted and the sky turned grey. She ceased her running, the smile that adorned her lips falling into a confused frown as she searched for her companion.

" _Hermione,_ " whispered a voice.

The deep, cool sound of this stranger caused a wave of warmth to rush over her. She turned around, gasping in surprise as stormy, silver eyes drank her in with immense interest. The woman watched as he neared her, stopping mere inches away. Sharp fangs began to protrude his lips as he grinned wolfishly, whispering out, "you're mine."

Hermione’s eyes snapped open, darkness infiltrating her line of vision. She sat up, squinting through the darkness. Moonlight spilled into her room making it easy to adjust her eyes and when they did, she found Draco Malfoy standing at the foot of her bed.

She glared at the man before her, lifting the covers to hide the fact that she was only wearing an old shirt and boy shorts. "How did you get past the wards, Malfoy?"

Draco remained silent, eyes never faltering from hers. He breathed in deeply, lids fluttering shut as her scent filled his lungs. That sweet, decadent smell of honey and lavender only fueled his Veela with a need to claim her. But beyond the scent of his mate he could smell something else lingering in the air. His eyes narrowed as he took one step closer towards the woman. There’d been someone with her earlier and he had half a mind to find whoever it was.

"Who were you with?"

She frowned, unyielding to his words. What a bossy prat! Obviously he was sniffing out Harry's scent but hadn't placed a face with the smell yet. She almost wanted to bait him and tell him the masculine fragrance belonged to her foreign lover, but simply thinking of Harry in that air caused the woman to hold back her cringe. And besides, the rage that currently bubbled within her did not allow her to think properly.

With the fugacious thoughts now clearing her mind, she squared her shoulders and offered the man her most murderous glare. "I don’t owe you any explanations, Malfoy, especially when you decided it would be a grand idea to break and enter _my home_. I believe I asked you a question first and you will do well to answer me. How did you get past the wards?"

Despite the rage that heated his skin, Draco silently fought to remain calm. His mother had given him a potion to suppress the urge to do anything rash and he was quite grateful for it now as he stood before her seeing red. His Veela scratched against his skull, demanding control. But despite the jealousy that coursed through him he didn’t want to frighten her and he had an inkling that was the potion, not his being.

Draco remained silent for a moment longer before he glanced at her night lamp with lazy eyes, the object instantly brightening the room soon after. The soft luminescent setting made Hermione’s face glow warmly and seeing her this way, with her hair tousled and sleep still evident in her eyes made her look absolutely endearing.

_Fucking hell_ , he thought.

"Veela magic is relentless when the situation involves their mate. There's little that can stop me when it comes to finding you." As he spoke he took languid steps that brought him closer to her. He was captivated by the dizzying emotion of completion he felt as he neared. How would he ever recover if this is feeling of delight would always be present when close to her? He watched with careful eyes as her arm discreetly creeped under her pillow to grab what he guessed was her wand.

"I'm not your mate, Malfoy. There's obviously been some sort of mistake." Merlin did she regret getting near him earlier that day. It was the damn Gryffindor courage in her that always proved to be a troublesome quality in her now adult years.

Draco flashed her a mirthless smirk. He watched in amusement as her eyes widened, finding her wand suddenly twirling within his fingers. "Looking for this? I’m quite proficient in wandless magic, love. Did I forget to voice that bit of fact?"

Palpable tension danced in the air. Hermione glared prettily at her counterpart, hoping to Godric this was a terrible nightmare. Draco sensed her unease and sighed dejectedly. He closed his eyes for a brief second and upon opening them did he find Hermione suddenly flush in the most beautiful shade of rose gold he’d ever seen. He regarded the woman with intense fascination as the effect of pheromones spread through her. A soft moan passed through her lips despite her efforts to stifle it. Desire flared in his resplendent eyes. He bit back a frown as his fist clenched in an effort cease the need to kiss her.

The blonde wizard sat on the edge of her bed with ease now that she was distracted. Gently, his elegant fingers brushed the bridge of her nose before cupping her face. Merlin, the desire to feel her was both agonizing and confounding. He wanted this witch lying underneath him as he drowned her in waves of passion. Releasing a fresh stream of pheromones, Hermione groaned, glaring with glazed eyes despite herself as she felt with utter horror how her body reacted to him.

"You’re a bastard," she huffed out.

Draco grinned, lips nearing and hovering inches before hers. "Fighting it will only make it worse for you, Hermione." He cared not for the lack of history between the two over the last few years. What mattered now was that a quixotic garden of emotions had bloomed in his being upon seeing her in the corridors today, and he knew better than to question the complexities of how it would change things for them. He wanted only to lose himself in bliss with her name falling from his lips.

"I—I can’t," she choked out, shaking her head and using every ounce of her will to deny him of the kiss she so desperately desired herself.

A spark of jealousy ignited once more as a daunting realization gripped his being. He glared fiercely at her, lips curled into a snarl. Long, pale fingers stilled her face in place. He searched for answers in her eyes to confirm his suspicions.

"There’s someone else." His voice came out quietly with a dangerous undertone curving every syllable. He did his best to hide the hurt he was currently being subjected to by this sudden truth.

"Yes," she answered breathlessly. It was not a complete lie, for indeed she had gone on a date last week and she thought things had gone well but now? Now what would happen?

Draco could not recall a time in which he felt as hollow. The agony that his Veela was screeching within him caught the wizard off guard. He let his fingers slip away from her face and Hermione frowned as the fleeting thought of missing his touch passed through her mind.It had to have been the Veela Magic. This sudden guilt she felt was not something that should have come naturally to her. She watched him with trepidation, fingers itching to reach and console him, to tell him that no, there was no one else in her life and there would never be _anyone_ other than him. This intrusive notion gave new strengths to her willpower. She would fight it for as long as she could.

His stormy eyes gazed at her intently. Silence spilled over the two for a long moment as he quietly fought for control. He could already feel his palms heat with the threat of fireballs spilling through them. Vividly did he imagine the blood of this new adversary staining his fingers. It was mildly frightening despite it all.

"I’m very much aware of the position you hold at the Ministry," he began. "And I’m quite certain you’re familiar with not only Veelas, but Veela Laws as well."

She nodded her response, breathing in now that the sugary air faded back to normal. "What’s your point, Malfoy?"

"If you refuse me I’ll die, Granger. And you sweetness," he gripped her chin once more, pulling her face a mere inches from him. His breath trickled over her lips and Hermione found herself staring at the pink flesh before looking at up him once more. "You will be sent to Azkaban for refusing to abide by the Veela Laws that you so ironically helped establish in the Ministry. Let's not play games. I've never been one to do so and I won't start now."

He didn't tell her how fearsome he grew in that moment at the thought of her being locked away in a desolate room. Draco fought his instincts to promise her he would never allow such a thing because although he was stating a fact, he knew without a single doubt in his mind that even in death he would worry about her. And this sudden desiderata pertaining to their circumstances angered him despite it all. He'd never cared for someone so much. If this was how it was in less than a day of knowing, how much deeper could she cut him later?

Hermione glared, fingers clenching the duvet in anger. The witch ignored the potent rage that sparked within her and instead swallowed the lump in her throat. "Don’t you dare patronize me, Malfoy. I didn’t ask to be your mate." She slapped his hand away from her face, matching the heated glare he bestowed on her.

"You're quite right, but I'm not to blame for my heritage either. I'd no idea I was a Veela until today. You were not the birthday present I had in mind for myself but now we are tied together. Will you really reject me and let me die? Could you live with yourself?" A prominent frown adorned his aristocratic features. He lifted himself from the bed and instantly regretted putting distance between the two. He wanted to burrow himself under the opulent covers that currently sheltered her and press this infuriating woman against him in the safety of her room. He knew she would fit perfectly against his frame.

Hermione answered his question with silence. Was she that easy to read? It was the very thought that halted her impromptu escape to France. Merlin, she cursed her weak heart. If she were a Slytherin perhaps it wouldn't have loathed her to admit how right his assumptions of her were. She sighed tiredly as the palm of her right hand rubbed against her forehead.

"Don’t speak as though you know me, Malfoy. I'm more than aware of those laws, believe me. I helped write most of them. What exactly would you like to me say? That I'm ecstatic at the thought of spending the rest of my life with you? You are not the man I wanted to wake up to, Malfoy. I can happily think of other men I'd—,"

She gasped in surprise when Draco gripped her wrists and laid her roughly against the bed. Murderous eyes scrutinized the witch. His lips curled into a snarl, chest heaving with rage. His Veela growled out, frightening the woman under him. Once silver eyes now clashed with amber flames as the beast became prominent.

"You'll do well to avoid speaking of another man in romantic terms when in my proximity, Hermione." He marveled at the various brown hues that now swirled within her eyes. She was absolutely attractive despite how angry she was currently making him. Simply thinking of her in the company of another man caused the fury to grow. He leaned in further, noses scarcely touching. "You're to end this frivolous affair with whoever was here earlier or I will kill him and hold no remorse after. I'm well within my right to do so under Veela laws, especially if my Veela feels threatened, especially since I'm an Alpha Veela."

Angry tears trickled down the corners of Hermione's eyes. Her breathing came out erratic as she clenched her eyes shut, lips quivering in agony. Draco frowned, displeased with the way things were going. Of course he'd known this confrontation would not be simple. Any history the two shared was filled with animosity. He was a right bastard to her during their childhood but he could not change that. A mild toleration for indifference was acceptable, but he would not tolerate infidelity and although he was aware of the turmoil this new situation would cause her, he needed to reassure her that he would do his best to make her happy.

"I hate you," she whispered out, refusing to meet his hurt gaze.

He studied her intently before releasing her. Taking a step away from her bed he gave his back to the woman. "Get some rest. I will meet you in your office tomorrow for lunch."

Hermione did not fail to notice the slightest quiver from his voice. Merlin what sort of reality had she been placed in? Before she could protest he disappeared with a pop.

Sleep would not come tonight. 

*** &*&*&*&***

The calming sound of quill strokes filled Hermione's being with ease. She hummed out in thought as the woman continued to fill her sheet with words of her new findings. Stacks of reports sat meticulously to her side, waiting to be read and corrected before being shipped off to the next office.

Hermione blinked several times in hopes the action might stir her drowsiness away. She made a mental note to pick up a dose of Pepperup potion while out for lunch. After her disastrous encounter with Malfoy, she'd spent all night pacing in her bedroom, much to Crookshanks' amusement. When sleep had finally found her, the sun spilled through her room, bringing a new day with it.

A gentle knock stirred Hermione from her erratic thoughts. The visitor waited for a moment before turning the knob and greeting her. She smiled faintly, relieved to see Harry and not Malfoy at the door. In all honesty, she wasn't quite sure how she would feel upon seeing the Veela.

"Hey, you," she greeted softly.

The wizard returned her smiled with his own, closing the door behind him as he made his way towards her. He sighed, hands shoved into his trouser pockets as he sat on the corner of her desk. He was silent for a long moment, figuring out what it was he should say. He reasoned that congratulations would not be accepted with positivity. Bollocks, he was terrible at pep talks. Hermione had always been the pillar of strength in the group. She always knew exactly what to say and when to say it.

Harry Potter was anything but eloquent.

"I can kill him, make it look like an accident," he joked. His grin turned into an embarrassed smile when met with her glare.

"Honestly Harry, I'm fine. There is an elementary solution to this situation. I'll simply have a little chat with Malfoy and make him realize that he's wrong. I'm quite certain he'll find his true mate. In fact, I'll even offer my services and help him find her." Her crestfallen eyes looked up at him with furrowed brows. Harry knew then that she was simply in denial; unable to admit the truth they were both aware of. She'd poured herself over various books after Draco had left, desperately hoping for a loophole to rid herself of this mess. But for all she searched, the conclusion always stained the page with the same chilling words: Veelas were never wrong when choosing mates.

"Hermione, I know that our love lives haven't been as we hoped when we were younger," he sighed while rubbing the back of his neck. That was an understatement, really. When he'd gotten with Ginny it had been wonderful. Having someone look at you in a romantic sense was something that the wizard never thought he'd need. But with time Ginny's feelings for Harry grew indifferent and now he watched as she happily paraded around with Blaise Zabini.

Hermione's own dalliance with Ron hadn't fared any better. His desultory ways bored Hermione. He was a traditionalist and though Hermione was to a degree as well, their fallout occurred when he expected her to be married and pregnant with his child months after beginning their love.

Needless to say, both friends weren't doing so well in the game where fools always seemed to triumph.

"Harry, life is always so unexpected. I can't allow myself to become inured with romances that weren't meant for me," she smiled at her long time friend and he returned it tenfold, reaching to ruffle her hair in a playful manner. "And you can't either, Harry. You have so much to offer," the woman added while slapping his hand away from her hair.

Harry chuckled in bemusement as his hand rested on his thigh once more. He shook his head in mild disbelief. Leave it to Hermione to turn her pep talk into his.

_Always the mother hen_ , he thought.

"Merlin, Harry, how will I tell my parents?" She frowned at the thought of introducing the man she'd always bad-mouthed as a child. There was no easy way in which her parents would accept their daughter being with someone that had caused her so much turmoil in their youth.

"The better question is what will you tell your lover?" Draco stood with his arms crossed over his chest, a mirthless grin adorning his features. He watched the duo with great interest, mentally noting that Harry smelled exactly as the scent he'd found throughout Hermione's house last night. The jealousy that coursed through him was mild, silently thanking whatever deity that he'd taken a double dosage of suppressant potions. He'd been an awful mess after the wizard left Hermione's flat the previous night. It took every ounce of willpower not to return, understanding that the foundation was unsteady.

The woman glared up at her counterpart, the agitated expression only intensifying more when a euphoric feeling began to wake within her. Harry frowned, questioning eyes resting on Hermione as he now stood by her desk.

"What is Malfoy talking about?"

She slapped her quill roughly on her desk, snapping the delicate utensil in half. Anger carved into her bones as she looked from a bemused Draco to her friend. Hermione should have known he'd pull something like this. Why had she ever thought of Draco as a decent human being now that he was older? Once a prat always a prat. Though she wanted to end the farce, the annoyance she had for the man caused her to bite the truth back.

"It's none of his concern, Harry," she stopped abruptly, lips curled into an annoyed snarl as she sent Draco a look that equated the killing curse. "This is not a conversation that concerns you, Malfoy. Did your prim and proper parents forget to teach you the importance of knocking?"

The wizard in question raised a brow, hands tucked into his expensive trousers as he casually leaned against the door frame. Harry carefully took a step away from Hermione, knowing better than to test her patience during these trying times. He was rather curious in terms of this lover that now came into light. Sure, he was busy with his own problems, but was he truly so inept at reading Hermione that he failed to notice she was falling in love?

"Did you forget our scheduled lunch date? There are matters I wish to discuss with you." His voice lacked the annoyance he was currently being subjected to. Despite the jealousy that simmered within his skin, he did his best to keep his primitive emotions at bay. Though the Veela within him longed to hold her close and feel her soft lips against his again, there was much to discuss. If he angered her now she would only push him away in the same manner as last night and he was not so sure how well he'd feel if that were to happen again. Already did his body feel weak.

Harry cleared his throat, choosing to ignore the sudden assemblage of awkwardness that took over the office. Draco's forbearing response seemed to lull Hermione to a brief state of quiet reflection. He turned to his friend and pulled her into a hug, noting his pep talk with the woman would have to be placed on hold. Harry was silently amused with the growl that resonated in the background when he felt her grip his back. Pushing her slightly away, he ignored the blonde wizard and smiled carefully at the witch who looked to him with beseeching eyes.

"We'll talk later." Her half hearted acquiesce was enough to put his curious mind at ease for a moment. Without another word he turned to find Draco glaring murderously at him. Harry snorted, green eyes rolling in further amusement. "Spare me your silent promises of death, Malfoy. She's been my friend longer than she's been your mate. This is a relationship you'll simply have to deal with..." He frowned, glancing over his shoulder to Hermione before finishing his statement, "should she choose to accept you."

There was a prickling fear that began to resonate within the man, knowing that she could very well reject him. He stepped into the office, pools of silver staring intently at the woman before him as Harry made his haste exit.

The lock clicked in place soon after, informing Hermione that this confrontation would not be avoided. She gathered her Gryffindor courage, squaring her shoulders and crossing her arms.

Draco pursed his lips, amusement dancing in his eyes. She looked absolutely beautiful in her black pencil skirt. The clothing did wonders for her hips and he briefly wondered what she would look like without it. The intrusive thought caused his Veela to purr and without meaning to Draco shot a wave of pheromones to his mate.

Hermione gripped the edge of her desk with both hands, digging her nails into the worn wood for a semblance of control. She glared, rightfully so, at her male counterpart while using every fiber of her body not to respond to his damning Veela Magic.

"You are absolutely appalling. Do that again and I will maim you," she breathed out.

Draco chuckled, nearing her desk in cool strides until his thighs pressed against the edge of it. He leaned across the surface, frowning when Hermione pulled slightly away. "I can’t fully control the Veela, Granger. You should count your blessings. Had it not been for the obscene amount of suppressant potions I’ve been taking all morning you'd be bent over this very desk with your pretty skirt pushed over your hips," his husky voice confessed.

Hermione’s skin flushed at the thought and Draco, in his ever perceiving state, did not fail to notice the effect his words had on the woman. Good, he thought. If he was going mad with want for her then it was only fair she do the same. The full moon would come within three weeks time and Draco hadn’t a moment to spare. He needed to claim her and the blonde man had an inkling she would not allow him to do so easily. The knowledge of this caused a brief surge of anger to awaken in the wizard and his logical side wanted to hold it against her—knowing that his life was cradled within her hands, knowing that she was in love with another. He had no choice in the matter anymore, not when his Veela was involved, pulling him to her like those bloody magnet contraptions muggles enjoyed sticking on various surfaces.

"I have three weeks left before the rising of the full moon. I’m confident you’re well-versed with what that means." She nodded, squaring her shoulders once more and crossing her arms over her chest.

"Have you ended it with _him_?" Draco held his breath in anticipation for her words, hoping that whatever response came from her would not wound him.

It wasn't fair, Hermione thought, how guilty she felt with this lie she'd conjured up. She knew voicing the truth was the correct thing to do and she seldom lied anyone, but deep within her being there was a cruel satisfaction that she could hurt him just as he'd hurt her when they were young.

But did she truly want to cause him pain?

This intrusive thought only intensified the guilt and with a defeated sigh she ran a hand through her sleek curls. She looked into those steely grey eyes she'd dreamnt the night before and pursed her lips. Never had Draco Malfoy looked at her with hopeful eyes and although he tried his best to mask it, Hermione could tell he was holding his breath and bracing himself for her answer.

"I'm not seeing anyone, Malfoy. So you can stop pestering me on the matter." She waved her hand in a casual stance, walking around the desk, hoping he would allow her to walk past him.

Draco could not contain the relief upon hearing her words and instantly he grabbed her forearm and pulled her to him. He was going to make sure she didn't fight this. Hermione felt so fragile against his chest with her petite hands pressing against him. He grinned wolfishly then, knowing very well how terrible his next actions would be but Merlin, he needed to kiss her. It was far too much to have her in his arms and not taste her. So before she could protest he wrapped his fingers around her wrists to keep them against his chest and cupped her face with his free hand, pulling her close until their lips met.

A spark of recognition spread through them. It felt like all the wonderful memories of their past merging out and swimming through the duo. Draco groaned out, gripping her face now with more firmness as he backed her carefully into the wall. Once he had her in place his hands began to trace the outline of her sides, taking hold of her waist and pulling it flush against his.

Hermione's head spun wildly. She felt a labyrinth of emotions, sighing out when his tongue traced her bottom lip, coaxing her's out. She complied with his request, arms wrapping around his neck to pull him down to her height so she could deepen the kiss. A shot of pleasure swam through her at the feel of his fingers digging into her backside.

Breaking their kiss when breathing became hard, Draco nuzzled her neck, tongue dipping out to lick the sensitive flesh. Hermione’s fingers dug into his shoulders. The arm around her waist tightened its hold. The need she felt made it increasingly hard to stay upright and so Draco held her with his arm, securely pulling her against his towering frame. She whimpered out when he pressed his lips against her. He tasted just as addicting as he felt, his pink muscle pushing past her lips to delve into her the depths of her mouth. Draco swallowed her moans eagerly, growling against them. He wanted to devour her one kiss, one lick, and one bite at a time until she knew of nothing else but his touch and his hard length inside her.

But a small, nagging voice within his mind halted those primal thoughts.

The wizard fought his desire, knowing if he were to continue his assault; the woman in his arms would never forgive him. He pressed his forehead against hers and listened as their ragged breaths grew calm. She was in his skin now and Draco knew that was where she would always remain.

Hermione looked into his eyes, marveling at the amber and silver colors clashing in them. Standing in such a close proximity caused comforting warmth to spread through her. She felt like she’d just walked into her parents’ house, safe…and loved? Instantly she shook the thought from her mind before placing a hand on his shoulders. There was a curious tingling sensation that stirred within the two. It was dazzling.

A faint blush crept on her cheeks and Draco could not stop his fingers from brushing the rosy skin. The Veela within him had never felt so ecstatic. His world felt right now that Hermione was in his arms.

The woman was suddenly embarrassed with herself, having lost her resolve so easily when he kissed her. He hadn't even released any pheromones and she'd jumped on him like a hormone-driven school girl. Merlin, she'd never been kissed so hungrily before and with the way he was looking at her now, Hermione was acutely aware of the burning desire in his eyes. She pushed him away and he complied with no persistence on the matter.

Draco cleared his throat, amused with the way she discreetly attempted to smooth out her wrinkled skirt while avoiding all eye contact. His fingers straightened out his tie before running through his tousled locks. Despite himself, he did not bother to impede the smug smirk his lips tugged in to. Seeing her hair disheveled and her blouse no longer tucked neatly under her skirt caused a possessive satisfaction to bloom within him. He'd done that, he'd been the one to cause her erratic breathing. His lips had been the ones to pull those delicious sounding moans from that pretty, little mouth of hers.

"Ron is right, you're still a wanker," she frowned; displeased that he was so full of himself right now.

Draco chose to ignore her banter, noting he was due for another potion when the mention of her friend's name alone caused the jealousy to spark. Instead, he walked to her office door with languid steps and opened it, standing to the side so that she could go through first.

"After you."

**Part IV**

They sat in an intimate section of the restaurant after Draco's persistent nagging. The bustling staff moved rhythmically around the tables and guests with trays of delicious French food. Hermione scanned the area with mild interest, finding anything much more invigorating than the idea of looking at Draco who currently sat right in front of her. She did not fail to notice the quick glances from various guests and staff members. It was no secret now why Draco, Slytherin Prince was having an extravagant lunch while also indulging in a _tête-à-tête_ with Hermione of all people.

"Should I expect you to ignore me for the duration of our lunch?" An elegant brow rose in question as Draco waited patiently for his mate's response. Having just taken a dose of suppressant potions, his Veela was sedated and left him in full control.

Annoyance was present in place of arousal now. She was persistent in showing him that these changes weren't affecting her, but with his newly heightened sense of smell and vision, the effects of the situation spoke in volumes when it came to reading her demeanor, even if she didn't.

He mentally assessed the cases he needed to go back and prepare for. Draco had a deposition to attend in a few hours and he wanted to speak with Hermione thoroughly so that she would not interfere with his work later. But as he watched her with intent eyes and noticed how the lighting of the room caused various hues of brown to appear in her pretty curls, he realized he would not be able to banish her from his mind and this awareness only fueled his annoyance further.

"You're a stubborn witch. Did your parents forget to teach you the importance of table manners?"

Hermione graced him with her finest glare, promising revenge on his unsolicited remarks. She could think of better ways to spend her lunch. Right now, jumping into the nearest lake sounded quite pleasant to the woman.

"You're about as comical as a rock, Malfoy. Shouldn't you be the one to begin the course of conversation considering the fact that you've given me no choice in attending this lunch meeting?"

Draco snorted and Hermione mused at the thought of his mother falling to her knees at such an un-aristocratic display. He was handsome when at ease, she noted. Whenever they'd crossed paths in the Ministry corridors Hermione always found him with a deep frown, lost in thought in what she assumed were his cases. He really was an excellent attorney. She'd attended a few of his trials when duty called and always found herself impressed with the passion he exhibited. There was no doubt that Draco did what he loved, and despite it all she could not help but feel attracted to that sense of confidence.

"Ever the charmer, hm Miss Granger?"

In this moment though, she was anything but infatuated with the prat. "Humor me, Malfoy. What will I be forced to do today?"

"You really do have a flair for the dramatic," he sighed.

How was he to go about this? He'd thought about it all night—ways that he could woo his mate into accepting him. Anything he'd conjure up simply made him feel like a peacock with its feathers on display. It was a bit maddening to say the least, but if he didn't do something that would show her this would not be a completely dull union, surely she would consider to accept him not only because the Veela Laws demanded it.

He was admittedly a bit of a romantic at heart—not in public and surely not so much that he was known for it. Though his father never expressed much love to his son, the story was different when it came to showing affection to his wife. Narcissa Malfoy was anything but unloved by her husband. And thus Draco grew up with the image of his own wife in his mind though it wasn't until last night that the image of this imaginary woman turned into Hermione. It made sense now, he thought, why his brief superfluous love affairs held little interest to the wizard. He'd never held his heart to begin with; it was Hermione who unbeknownst to either of them carried it inside her pocket from the moment she was born.

"I apologize for being so callous last night. When I—," he frowned, regarding her closely before continuing, "When you told me there was someone else I became a bit of a brute."

It was Hermione's turn to snort. Her fingers drummed against her thigh as she allowed him to continue whatever it was he was planning to say.

Draco ignored her intrusion, pursing his lips in vain attempts to still the word vomit that stood on the tip of his tongue. "There are two entities in me; both always fighting for control and it will only get worse if you give me reason to grow jealous. This unbecoming aspect will get better once we go forth with our union. I'm a man who doesn't have time to dally around and not take what's his—it’s not in my nature, Granger. Right now, you are my top priority and I'm limited in terms of time."

Disbelief washed over the woman. Anger began to rise in her throat as she listened to him speak. Deciding he'd said enough, Hermione slammed her hand on the table causing a sea of eyes to focus on them. "I am not an object to be obtained, Malfoy, and if this is your idea of convincing me to accept you well I'm going to be quite honest, Azkaban is beginning to sound like a pleasant vacation."

He huffed, rising to his feet with his clenched fists firmly planted on either side of the table as he leaned into her. "Is that so? You would rather rot in deplorable surroundings than accept the fate of becoming mine?"

She rose, her anger now rolling out in waves. "Are you deaf? I refuse to be objectified. You want me to accept you? Then how about you learn to properly speak to a woman, especially if you mean to skip the courting and dive right into the merrymaking. Don't you dare get angry with me, I don't need you." She watched, unafraid with the swirls of amber and grey that clashed in his eyes. It was obvious that the Veela was aching to showcase his dominance over her. Voldemort himself would have to dance through the doors of this very establishment before she even considered submitting to such a deplorable man.

"Don't test me, Granger. My rights will out your wants. I'm merely attempting not to force you into this union but I will not tolerate this disobedience."

A crisp slap broke through the air. The room grew silent with trepidation, witnessing with morbid curiosity how Hermione Granger, Brightest Witch of Her Age, struck Draco clean across the face. His turned head slowly returned to place. Cinnamon eyes noted how Draco’s jaw clenched in what she thought might be his attempt to remain calm. A low, warning growl resonated in the air between them and Hermione had to swallow the fear that began to take hold of her body.

He would not hurt her, she was sure of that. The witch often read how a Veela would rather plunge into their own deaths before intentionally injuring their mates. But seeing the alarming shade of deep amber wash away all traces of silver in his eyes, she began to fear for what he might do to _anyone_ who so much as looked her way. She began to conjure up a plan within her mind, analyzing how long it would take her to get him to an apparition point before he lost all control. But before she could finalize her plan she noted how his silver eyes fluttered open, letting out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding.

She squared her shoulders, growing misty-eyed despite herself. Letting out a shaky breath, her fingers curved around her purse before settling its strap on her shoulder. She didn’t look at him for a long moment, waiting for the wizard to at least apologize for being so crass, but when she was met with silence she huffed out a mirthless laugh, hoping to mask the ache that clenched in her throat.

"Perhaps your Veela magic will cause me to love you, but know this Malfoy, it will never truly stem from my soul—my heart will never really be yours."

Guilt seized Draco, rendering him still as he watched with glazed over eyes how Hermione grew further and further away—both in body and in spirit. It was then that he realized things may not go according to plan after all, and the idea of rejection began to weigh heavily on his slumped shoulders. 

*** &*&*&*&***

The next few days passed without much notice. Draco did his best to remain immersed in his cases, interviewing clients and attending depositions. He inhaled suppressant potions and just about anything else that could make him look healthy. His hair no longer looked lustrous, his skin grew unbecomingly pale and his nails turned into subtle shades of yellow.

He was dying slowly, with little protest.

Theodore Nott watched with concern as his long time friend stained pages with script that no longer looked elegant. When learning of the events that unfolded, the Slytherin bookworm insisted on staying with the wizard until he could rest knowing his friend was in healthier spirits. Draco had been adamant on refusing any sort of help but Slytherins were cunning and Theodore proceeded to threaten the man with frequent visits from Narcissa Malfoy if he did not oblige.

"It’s past noon, Draco and I feel a headache coming on from the lack of food in my stomach. How about we go to that bistro over in London we discovered last month?" Theodore already knew what his counterpart’s answer would be even before Draco voiced it.

"I’m not hungry, Theo. There’s far too much to do."

Theodore did not bother to voice his distaste on the matter, finding instead the scratching of Draco’s quill more invigorating than any of his destitute commentary. He wondered if Hermione was faring any better. Draco mentioned he’d kissed her and since she was clearly affected by his pheromones she was probably going through withdrawals now that Draco had stayed away for days.

He snorted audibly, earning a questioning look from the platinum-blonde wizard. Leave it to Draco to choose a woman who matched his own iron will. This would go on forever…or until Draco succumbed to a painful death. This notion alone alarmed Theodore. Draco was really his only friend these days, and if the stubborn bloke died because he refused to swallow his pride and court his mate—well, Theodore would be very angry.

"You’re being an idiot, mate."

Silver eyes looked up from Draco’s notes, an elegant brow rising in question. Theodore sighed dramatically, running a hand through his dark, blonde locks of hair. "Merlin, don’t be such a stubborn arse. If she wants you to romance her then you should bloody well do it."

"She slapped me in one of the most prominent French establishments in Wizarding Britain, Theo."

"Oh for Merlin’s sake. So you’re content sitting here and watch your health deteriorate because you’re too stubborn to let it go? I don’t know if you realize this Draco, but you were a complete arse to her. You cannot treat her like an object and expect her to fall into your arms willingly, she’s not Pansy Parkinson."

A growl rumbled deep within Draco's throat. His Veela could only whimper in agony, no longer did it push against Draco with force, growing instead weaker from the separation of Hermione. But he was ashamed to even think of her, knowing that was his friend had voiced was correct—he'd been a complete arse to her. Instead of being patient and supportive of this situation, he'd acted selfishly. She didn't understand though. Didn't fathom the amount of fear that welled within him at the thought of her rejecting him. Not so much for his death, but what the repercussions may be for her.

He could not protect her if he was dead.

These bothersome scenarios gave way to a new realization: how exhausting it was to be constantly fretting over someone. He wasn't used to being so selfless, granted she hadn't seen him in anything other than a selfish light but if given the circumstances he would surely step in the line of fire if it meant keeping her from harm's way. And this irked Draco to the bone.

The blonde wizard stirred from his stupor at the sound of Theo's agitated sigh. "Have you been listening to anything I've said?"

"I tend to block out commentary I find unnecessary," Draco smirked, which only served to annoy his friend further.

"Merlin, you're a bloody wanker."

Draco huffed. "You know, you're not the first to make me aware of that."

"Do you sense a pattern?"

"Perhaps."

Theo sighed, failing to hide the amused smirk that tugged his lips. He walked towards the door, fingers gripping the knob as he turned to look at the bane of his existence. "Let's go, there's a lot to be done. You've made quite a mess for yourself."

Draco did not bother to disagree.

**Part V**

Hermione grimaced as she watched Ron obliterize his food. The smell of the hearty soup that sat before her waiting to be consumed now looked unappetizing. All around them various chatter could be heard, groups of wizards and witches going about their day, in delighted palaver. It seemed that spirits were high on this Monday. But despite the animated day, Hermione could find no peace. The weight of her withdrawals proved heavy on her shoulders. It was subtle at first, the way her heart would ache in still hours of the night when sleep was no where in sight. It came when she'd see the same icy-blue shades of his eyes in various things throughout the day. It was worse when she was alone in her office. Her eyes would often drift to the wall by her filled bookshelf where Draco had given her a thoroughly good snogging.

Merlin, simply thinking of it caused her face to heat. She could already feel a blush blooming on her cheeks. But then loss filled her again and she slumped against her chair as the sorrow began to take hold once more. Perhaps she'd been too hasty? Hermione could be so passionate when riled up and she often heard that it wasn't always such a positive trait to bear, but it was something that could not be helped. Five days without so much as running into him only proved to be strenuous on the witch. Though hating to admit it, she missed him something terrible.

"'Mione?"

She blinked, a smile tugging on her lips as she returned from her musings. "Yes, Ronald?"

Ron put down his fork as he eyes her warily. He'd noticed how pasty she'd looked when visiting her and decided to take her to lunch in hopes that she would regain a bit of her color after eating, but she hadn't even tasted her soup, simply submerging the spoon and stirring it occasionally.

He went to take her hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "It's going to be alright, yeah? Things always have a way of coming together." His vibrant blue eyes offered her hope and she could not help but to broaden her smile.

"Mum asked about you, she's wondering when you'll stop by for dinner. I told her you were going through a few things so she wants you to come by Saturday night. No excuses," he warned before she could even protest.

Hermione smiled warmly with a nod of her head. "Of course, you know I'll be there."

Silence washed over them once more. Ron pursed his lips in thought as he watched Hermione fidget with her fingers. The endearing way she chewed on her lip reminded him of their days in the Hogwarts library. So young and naïve to the outside world, if he'd known the things he did today when he was a child perhaps they would've stayed a couple.

"'Mione?"

She looked to him, head tilting ever so slightly. "Yes?"

"I'm sorry."

The witch was confused by his words. Her brows furrowed and with a sublte shake of her head she asked, "whatever for?"

"For not knowing how to make you happy."

"Oh, Ron...," she took his hand in hers and mimicked his earlier movement, squeezing it tightly. "We were still kids. You don't have to apologize for anything. You'll always be my best friend."

He gave her a half-hearted smile, squeezing her own hand back. "Thank you."

Inquiries pertaining to his job were on the cusp of her lips. They were swallowed when a small surge of panic shot through her chest. She had to take a sip of her water in an effort mask the shock it'd caused. A terrible feeling began to sink within the woman and she was instantly on her feet with fear radiating in her eyes.

"I have to go, Ron. I'm sorry—something...something is wrong." _So terribly wrong,_ she thought. She gave her ginger friend one last nod before taking hurried steps to...well, to wherever her instincts were telling her to go.

Dreadful anticipation seized her insides as she grew closer to the source of her panic. An array of people stood in a circle that looked all too familiar. She spotted Theodore Nott glaring at the Ministry's mediwitch who in turn frowned. Pushing her way past the groups of spectators, Hermione dropped to her knees with teary eyes as Draco laid on the marble floor, a small pool of blood staining his platinum locks.

"Draco! What's happened?" She croaked, looking directly up at Theodore who returned her stare with curious eyes.

"There was water on the floors and Draco slipped. We're taking him to the medical room now."

Hermione glared at the lot as her fingers gripped the lapels of her Veela's navy blue suit jacket. "Well what in Merlin's name are you waiting for? Do you not see his blood on the floor? Are you mad? Get on with it!"

Taken aback with Hermione's snappy demands, the mediwitch took her wand with shaky hands and began to levitate the unconscious man from the floor. Hermione rose soon after, turning to glare at the small group of spectators. Seeing them so immersed in their morbid curiosity only fueled the witch with rage.

"Well? Have you no duties to uphold? Go on! The show's over," she heaved and the sight of Hermione practically crackling with anger amused Theodore to no end.

He followed silently behind the raging woman with hands tucked into his trouser pockets, careful to keep his distance with the little flame lest he burn himself. At least their plan had worked, he silently mused. Though he was sure his dear friend would have quite the headache upon waking up. 

*** &*&*&*&***

Draco groaned, eyes straining against the harsh lighting of the room. He heard a rustling beside him and with it came the familiar scent of lavender and honey. His eyes fluttered in hopes to still the spinning room. He was pleasantly surprised to find his hand tucked warmly inside Hermione's.

He craned his neck, biting back the grin when those cinnamon eyes he'd been dreaming about stared critically at him. Who knew Theo's experiment would work? She must have sensed the danger just as his friend had theorized. The bond that was beginning to form between the two was rather curious.

"Since when are Malfoy heirs anything but poised?"

The wizard noted the worriment in her eyes that clashed with her stern voice. He ignored her and instead gripped her hand, pulling it to his nose so he could inhale her sweet aroma. Merlin, this was worth the headache. He'd fall a thousand times over if it meant she'd be beside him when he came to.

"Since their mates decided to abandon them," he quipped.

It had been the wrong thing to say, he realized, when she began to pull her hand away, but he prevented her movements, the Veela deeply regretting the words spoken. She'd been away for what seemed like eternity and now that she was here he wanted to tell her how he ached in her absence. He simply ceased to exist when he was not with her.

"Wait, don't—," he sighed, uncaring of any repercussions as he kissed her knuckles. His lips lingered on her skin for a second before he set her hand on top of his chest, his own still encased around her. "I don't want to argue anymore, Granger. I realize I'm quite difficult, but you're not exactly easy to deal with either," he added with a light tone.

She remained silent, mulling over his words. Hermione wouldn't deny it, she was difficult and stubborn, yes, and where would that leave them? Two stubborn beings always fighting to scream louder than the other. It would be such an exhausting life to lead.

"I'm growing tired of this, Malfoy—this emotional labyrinth I've been thrown in," she began, taking her hand back and walking towards the infirmary's window. "Your Veela magic has affected me in ways I never fathomed. It's rather infuriating not to be in control of my emotions."

Draco ignored the soreness in his back and rose from the bed. The room began to spin for a fragment of a second. He breathed in deeply through his nose, curious as to how hard he had slipped from the fall. "This isn’t exactly ideal for me either, Granger," he began, only to hold his breath when her murderous stare penetrated through him.

Anger flashed in her eyes and Draco could feel the waves of resentment roll into him. She squared her shoulders with a cruel smile on her lips, hoping to mask the sting of his words. "What’s the matter, Malfoy? Disgusted you'd have to defile a mudblood in order to survive?"

She's instantly regretted her words. He wasn’t instigating a fight and she was aware she was being unreasonable, but Gods dammit, this was not what she pictured her life leading to. Draco Malfoy was not who she thought she’d end up with!

The witch silently watched as the man fought with the Veela for control. His eyes blazed with clashing colors of silver and amber. She missed his silver eyes then, mildly afraid for what he would do if the Veela proved far too great.

Draco clenched his fists. The talons that ripped through his fingers pricked his palm and he knew that if he opened his hand blood would rest in the center of it. The witch was testing his patience. Bloody, women and their moods, he silently huffed. His Veela growled once more. Clenching his eyes shut for a moment, they fluttered open and pools of cold, steely silver gazed at her once more.

"It’s taken me a long time to denounce the beliefs which my parents and society instilled in me. It’s taken me even longer to accept those that clashed with what I’d only ever known. I can say with utter confidence that the status of your blood is of little importance to me these days, Granger. At the end of the day, you are my mate and despite you and I logically disliking the idea, I need you to survive."

Hermione averted her gaze to the floor. She felt ashamed at her utter disrespect for his journey. Draco was not the same boy he’d been years ago. He was a man now, a man with proper morals and convictions who was constantly doing good for the Ministry as he made sure all people received fair trials.

She closed the distance between them and with every step that brought her closer to him, she felt her body swell with relief. He must have felt the same pull for no sooner had she placed her hand on the side of his cheek, did all the tension in his face disappear.

Her eyes gazed up at him apologetically. "I'm sorry, that was a callous thing to say."

"I just want a chance to show you I'm not the ferret I was in school," he sighed, a small smile adorning his lips. It was so personal, so soft that Hermione wondered if she'd ever seen anything as beautiful.

She laughed quietly as took his hand, pursing her lips at the sight of the wounds his talons had caused. Her fingers brushed over the indents and Draco watched in fascination as they disappeared soon after.

"Then a chance you shall receive."

**Part VI**

Narcissa Malfoy frowned irritably at the sight of her only son. Her serpentine gaze took in every decaying detail of the young man. She could see through the suppressant potions and pepperups how frail he was growing, how much pain he was in. A darkling emotion bloomed within the woman at the cause of her son's demise. That damned little witch did not know what damage she caused by dallying around instead of accepting her role.

"You are a Malfoy, you shouldn't need to ask permission to take what's rightfully yours." Her crisp tone broke through the silence of the sitting room as they idly drank their tea.

Draco raised an eyebrow in question, as though he failed to understand what she was speaking of. Yet in the depths of his mind he knew. It was not hard to miss, how strenuous this was on his being. His Veela grew weaker as the days continued to unfold. But Draco was so close to having Hermione accept him. He'd taken her on lunch dates and dinners, all proving to be positive. And he'd kiss her at the end of every outing, Merlin had he kissed her. Just before leaving for the day did he corner the witch in her office and press her against the wall. He could still feel the caress of her lips against his, could still hear her soft sighs as he traced kisses on the curve of her neck. He'd held her tightly against him, her body aquiver with a desire he so desperately wanted her to succumb to.

But he knew that if he attempted to go any further things may have not gone very well. Snogging her had filled his body with fresh vitality, enough to make the trip to the Manor. A journey he'd put off for obvious reasons.

He sighed, setting the delicate teacup on its saucer. He would not lie to her, she would see right through it anyway. "This is Hermione Granger, mother. There is not a single being that could make her do something she does not want. What would you have me do? Take her against her will?"

The abhorrent thought caused him to grow disquiet, disturbed that she would expect that of him. "I'm capable of many things, but not that, mother. Never that."

Narcissa let out a deep sigh then, regarding him in a new light. The blasphemous events that unfolded during the wizarding world caused a new epoch of clarity for her son. She was quite proud—proud that he denounced their unfavorable family traits. He was a good man, unlike his parents. The elder witch only wanted him to be happy. He was so sensitive despite what he projected to the world. During his childhood he'd been so good, so sweet. She was not proud in allowing her husband to discipline their son into a proper little man who would one day carry on the Malfoy name. Narcissa was almost glad her son's mate was a muggle-born witch. Maybe this would end the dark nature in which Malfoy men were raised.

"Darling, I would never consider that, I simply meant you should be more aggressive in pursuing her. There are only four days left until the rising of the full moon and if you are not mated and married under its light before it sets you will die. You cannot blame me for being worried." She rose from her seat, placing a delicate hand on his shoulder. "You are my only son, and if you were to perish, darling I don't know what I would do."

Draco frowned, taking her hands within his before meeting her teary gaze. "She will accept me. I know it."

Narcissa smiled knowingly at her little dragon. "You are a Malfoy and Hermione is a woman first and foremost. Show her how passionate Malfoys can be, darling. She will be yours soon enough." 

*** &*&*&*&***

Insurgent curls frizzed around Hermione's face as she did her best to grab the hair and tie it into a high ponytail. Leaves crunched under her grey boots as she trekked along a trail in the magical forest. Her narrowed eyes scanned the vicinity with each step she took, careful to take in every detail for signs of pixies. The annoying little things seemed to be causing trouble for the children at Hogwarts. For days now, kids studying outside were lulled into the forest only to find themselves stark naked on a bed of dead leaves. None of the children had been harmed, thank Merlin, but the pixies were infamous for stealing children in the past.

"So, are the rumors true? Is Draco Malfoy an impeccable kisser?"

Hermione rolled her eyes, biting back the grin that threatened to betray her neutral face. If she had known that Ginny was going to be such an annoying git she would have left her at the ministry and taken Luna with her instead.

"Honestly Gin, don't you have enough with Blaise? What of his own rumors? Did he really use the Time Turner to bed the queen of England in her younger years?"

Her red-headed friend snorted, eyes squinting for a moment at a bush she swore moved. "A complete lie, sadly. That would've been quite the story to tell, hm?"

"You're appalling," Hermione laughed, shaking her head in bemusement.

A soft rustling stilled the women. With their wands ready in their hands they waited for a slightest sign of pixies. After a long moment a small red squirrel ran out of the shrub, stopping just a short distance from the ladies who in turn signed in discontentment, continuing their search for the troublesome creatures.

"Do you fancy him? Or is he still a ferret?"

Hermione sighed in defeat. She placed a hand on her waist and gave Ginny a sideway glance. With her lips pursed she mulled over her friend's questions. Things were going quite well. He'd only had one outburst during an outing to an opera last night where he noticed an older man trying to glance down her sweetheart neckline. She'd watched with morbid curiosity as he silently hexed the man. It was humous until Draco's talons made an appearance. But he was doing his best, and under the circumstances Hermione could not fault him.

"He's quite the aristocratic pureblood—a gentleman."

Ginny scoffed, crossing her arms and shooting her long time friend an accusing look. "How boring! Honestly Hermione, you are Draco Malfoy's destined mate and you're telling me you haven't taken that nice specimen on a joyride? How can you have a top line and not have tested it out yet?"

Hermione burst into a delighted laugh, head shot back as the sound filled the air. She shook her head like before. "Merlin, Ginny, you speak of him as though he were a broom! He's a man, goodness...and I'm simply...sizing him up."

Ginny grinned, brows shooting up knowingly. "I knew it! You naughty little tart!"

"H-hello?"

A timid voice rang through the trees. Both heads snapped in the direction of the sound. Hermione frowned, wand raise in a battle stance. They walked with trepidation towards the source as she called out, "Is someone here?"

"Please! Help me!" The child-like voice grew frantic and the witches sprinted towards it.

They stumbled through the bushes, halting as they were met with a child hanging upside down in nothing but his knickers. Ginny swallowed the laughter that bubbled in her throat and turned to looked at a bewildered Hermione.

"How in Merlin's name did you get up there?"

The young boy waved his arms frantically as they swung under his head. "It was those rotten pixies! I was studying for my potions exam out by the lake and I must have fallen asleep or something. Next thing I knew I was here hanging upside down while they hovered around me, laughing!"

"Calm down, sweetheart. We'll get you down and back at Hogwarts in no time." With a swish of her wrist she snapped the vines that held him suspended in air, but just as the boy was carefully being hovered down by Ginny's own wand their clothes vanished.

Hermione gasped in horror, eyes turning in every direction. Ginny yelped as an unseen force began to lift her in the air. Thick vines began to spring from the forest's ground and wrap around her ankles. The boy ran, screaming in horror towards the school grounds. Hermione just had enough time to cast a protection spell around him before she was also lifted into the air while high-pitched giggles echoed in the trees.

"My name is Hermione Granger and I am here on behalf of the Department of Magical Creatures & Safety Division. If you do not cease your unseemly shenanigans this very instant I will be forced to take action against you—," her sermon was cut short as the vine that held her began to swing her, earning a sharp scream of horror from the woman.

"Stop pissing them off, 'Mione!" Ginny shouted, ignoring the nausea that was beginning to well within her stomach.

A loud pop resonated in the air and the witches were instantly met with Draco. Terror swirled in his amber eyes as he witnesses Hermione's current situation. A growl rumbled deep within his chest as he turned in every direction, sniffing out their surroundings. As if finding what he'd been looking for, he pointed his palm in the orientation of a tree to the left of Hermione and shot a fireball in its direction. Screeches rang as little pixies fell to the ground. Draco them waved his wand at the lot, suspending them in air and effectively trapping them.

Hermione watched him with wide eyes, much like Ginny's. Confused, he looked behind him in the direction of their shocked expression and noticed his scaly wings had made an appearance. A faint blush crept on his cheeks despite his best to stifle it. Ignoring their stares, he used the wings to fly up where Hermione hung. He took her hands and pulled her up, soundlessly snapping the vines. In an instant she wrapped her arms around his neck, burying her face into it.

"Merlin, Draco am I ecstatic to see you." She shivered as his palm traced her spine, his talons lightly stroking her skin.

"Are you hurt?" He sounded terribly worried, so much so that Hermione was compelled to look into his eyes that were now returning to their familiar steely grey. "No, just frazzled. Thank yo—,"

"Excuse me? Am I to be left hanging here all night while you two make gooey eyes at each other?" Ginny yelled, flapping her arms like the child had done earlier.

Draco snorted, careful to place his mate down before handing her the wand she'd dropped. Hermione grinned sheepishly at her friend as she carefully brought her down. Once on the ground, Ginny glared at the pixies.

"You little shites!"

"Ginny!" Hermione admonished.

"Oh don't Ginny me. You have your Veela's snug suit jacket to keep you warm! In case you've failed to notice, I'm still very much in my knickers in the middle of the sodding forest."

Draco frowned, conjuring up a sweater he'd left in the office and throwing it at the loud woman. She thanked him with a huff and threw it over her head. While she regained a bit of her ego, Draco turned his attention back at Hermione, kissing her forehead gently.

"How did you find me?" She asked, amazed with his ability.

He smirked, radiating smugness. "Did you already forget about the Veela magic?"

"Right."

He smirk grew wider as his finger sneaked inside the folds of the suit jacket to brush against her lace bra. Hermione shivered, glaring at her male counterpart. "Slytherin green lace? Is this for me?"

"Oh shut up and take us back to the Ministry." 

*** &*&*&*&***

"No, absolutely not." Draco did not bother to even acknowledge Hermione with a look as he answered her. Instead, his fingers continued to busy themselves with various sheets of parchments that contained his opening statement for next week's hearing. A hearing he would hopefully be able to attend while alive and well. This troublesome thought only obscured his mood for a moment, finding it best to wait for another time to bring it up. It was already Friday and it seemed that they were headed into another heated argument.

"You won't even consider it? Draco Malfoy, they are the only family I have left and they have extended their invitation to you. Surely you'll change your mind?"

He ignored how pretty she looked with her arms crossed over her peach-colored dress and instead focused on how terrible the idea of him attending the dinner was. Not to mention how awful the timing of this feast was. He had two days to claim her and he was hoping to do it on Saturday, having already planned to take her to France for an impromptu trip where he would romance her, but now that this was dangling over his head his previous plans were as good as cancelled.

Insufferable witch. Why did his Veela choose her? Were there no other witches that would have suited him better? No, his Veela instantly growled within him. And he knew very well how silly that thought was. It was her insufferable traits that suited the wizard. She was so strong willed, so ready to fight for what she felt was right. These traits were what his Alpha Veela needed. Together they would bear strong children and he would love them with much more fervor than his own father had loved him.

This sudden thought brought an image of Hermione forth, his witch's belly swollen with his child. It caused his groin to instantly tighten and he had to clench his jaw in hopes that she would not notice how much he wanted to take her right there, on his desk, and fill her to a brim with his seed.

_Fuck,_ he mentally groaned, hoping to remove this sudden desire from his being.

"Honestly Draco, have you nothing to say?" She uncrossed her legs to sit on the edge of the seat, leaning into him with inquisitive brown eyes.

Draco closed his own and breathed in deeply through his nose before letting it out. "Love, there are many things I would do for you. I hope in the past few days you've come to learn this...but," he sighed, shoving his opening statement to the side and taking her dainty hands in his before continuing, "do not ask this of me."

Hermione frowned, her initial reaction was to lash out, protective of the Weasleys for knowing reasons. But she mimicked his earlier motions, and breathed in before smiling tentatively at the man sitting before her. From their make-up on Monday things had been so different. The air was filled with a lightness that Hermione had not felt in days since this situation first arose. He'd taken her to wonderful restaurants, a few muggle even. And he'd been such a gentleman through it all, snogging her senseless just outside her door before they parted, but never asking for more than what she was willing to give.

He'd been the complete opposite of what she'd always pictured him as, and even surprising still, he'd toned down his possessive nature. Knowing that he was doing his best to appease her, she could only do the same for him.  
"Draco, the Weasleys are going to be a prominent staple in my life. I don't want this to be an issue in the future. Wouldn't it be best to mend the bridges now? It won't be an ostentatious affair, they aren't like that."

She watched him carefully as he stood up from the chair, hands shoved into his grey trousers as he paced his office. He continued this routine for a moment and Hermione did not interfere, knowing he was conjuring up the proper words. He stopped before her, sitting on the corner of his desk and stared ahead with a solemn expression.

"There are demons I haven't gotten over. There is guilt that still keeps me up at night." There was a certain sadness that stained his eyes then and Hermione's chest seemed to clench knowingly.

"How could I sit at the same table as the Weasleys after all the pain I've caused them? I won't do it, Hermione."

Draco's sudden revelation rendered Hermione silent. Was she really so clueless? Of course he would feel conflicted in their home. After all, he had part in the rising of Voldemort even if he hadn't wanted to. And the war had taken away so much from the Weasleys. Being in their presence would only engulf him into deeper guilt. Or...it could ascend him into forgiveness and end this self-loathing he subjected himself to.

A long stretch of ineffable silence took hold of the couple. Hermione rose from her chair, her heels clicking softly against the marble floor as she went to stand before him. She willed the wizard to look her in the eyes. For a strenuous moment she studied him. Her gazed grew misty with unshed tears—his pain was hers. Placing a hand his cheek, she watching curiously how he relaxed with her touch. Hermione would touch every inch of his skin if it meant shunning away the tension from him.

"You can do it because I will be there with you. I will provide you with the strength to sit amongst them." The pads of her fingers caressed his jaw as she coaxed positive emotions to bloom within him in lieu of the dark clouds that seemed to hang above his head.

"The answer is still no," he broke away from her ministrations to put distance between them. Although it did calm him to know that she would be there, he did not feel comfortable facing this demon—not yet. For Salazar's sake, he would only have one day to mentally prepare himself. And then there was that wanker Ron to worry about. Did he still fancy Hermione? He wasn't sure, but he would rather not find out.

"Merlin Draco, must you be so stubborn? Why won't you go?" She was growing angry now, hurt that he didn't trust her to help him. What of the progress they'd made these few days?

The office suddenly seemed too small. He loosened his tie, hoping the action would cease the unforeseen claustrophobia. "Because it's none of your bloody business!" The loudness of his statement took Hermione by surprise and Draco noted the change in her demeanor, but before he could stop himself he said, "I won't go and I don't have to explain myself to you."

Any form of control she had to remain calm dispersed from within her. "So that's it then? Things get a bit hard and you shut me out? Goodness, Slytherin through and through with your cowardly ways."

Draco let out a mocking laugh, scrutinizing her with his steely eyes. "And you're better than I am? Because you're a fucking Gryffindor? This has nothing to do with our school houses, Granger, don't be so obtuse."

"Well what is it then? Afraid you'll have to burn your finely tailored suit after setting foot inside the Weasley's home?"

"It won't ever matter what I do, will it? You'll always think little of me." His voice came out low and soft, so soft that Hermione could barely make out what he'd said.

"What am I to think when you won't trust your own mate? How am I supposed to help you if you won't let me?"

"Honestly Granger, what do you want me to say?"

"The truth!" She screeched, stomping her foot on the marble floor like a petulant child throwing a tantrum.

"You're killing me!" He yelled, no longer filtering his words. She wanted the cold, hard truth? He would give her plenty of it. The anger proved too great as he slammed his fists on the desk, cracking the wood from the sheer force. His chest heaved with rage, eyes swirling with amber and teeth becoming sharper.

"I've been as accepting of your conditions as a dog accepts commands from their master. Are you really so ignorant to the fact that I'm going to die come Monday morning if I don't claim you before the full moon sets? Or are you simply pretending to actually give a damn? Do you just want my attentions until you've had your fix? I thought you'd be better versed in the repercussions of making me wait."

Cinnamon eyes grew wide as the witch gasped. Of course! Sunday night would bring the rising of the full moon. She'd been so wrapped up in their kindling affair that she hadn't remembered such a crucial detail. Her heart hammered against her chest, fear coursing through her veins. Whatever anger she'd felt froze.

Draco confused her stunned silence for indifference, for no sooner had he accused her of it did he grip her shoulders, shaking her once as if the action would bring forth logic.

"Merlin woman, you don’t get it, do you?"

His brows furrowed in frustration. "I bloody well love you! And it grows harder every day to keep my distance when all I can think about is making my claim on you."

Hermione clicked her tongue, hands pressing against his chest in hopes to separate herself from him. "Don’t you dare showcase your possessiveness to me, Draco. I am not an object you can own."

He laughed mirthlessly, gently pushing away from her. His hands shook with anger and despite wanting to succumb to his Veela he fought to remain calm, his fingers running through his tousled locks. He gave his back to her; eyes clenched shut as he desperately racked his brain for some way to make her understand. Taking a deep, calming breath he turned to her once more. His eyes reflected dwindling hope. In a last, feeble attempt he took her hands and cradled them in his.

"For Salazar’s sake, do you think I enjoy being jealous of every man that gets to see you? I don’t want to own you. I just want to fucking love you. You're supposed to be the brightest witch of our age yet you can't fathom that you were made for me just as I was made for you." He placed one of her palms on his chest, over his erratic heart while pressing the other on his cheek. "This heart, the feel of my skin under your fingers, all of me; I was specifically made to compliment you in every way so that when the time came for us to come together you would love every inch of me just as I love every inch of _you."_

A swell of emotion engulfed the woman. Her vision grew blurry with unshed tears and Draco was quick to press his lips against her own. He wrapped his arms tightly around her waist, pulling her as close as she could get. Tears mingled into their kiss and as he moved his lips against hers, his thumb went to brush them away from her clenched eyes. She gripped his clothed chest, quivering against his lips as he deepened it. All the pain and resentment faded with each stroke of his tongue and she let him pour every bit of himself into the crevices of her heart she'd unknowingly denied him.

As the kiss ended, with lungs thoroughly burning from the lack of air and chests heaving in sync, Draco pressed his forehead against hers. Softy he whispered out, "If I’d known years ago what you would mean to me, Hermione, I would have never done any of it. Things would have been immensely different because you are the single most important entity in my world, please know that, surely you must."

Even before she spoke Draco felt the hesitance. He did nothing as she pulled away from him despite wanting to gather her back into his embrace. There was a crippling fear that began to take hold of his body. Was this her rejection? Merlin, he'd once heard that the terrible things one did through their life always had a way of coming back and though he never thought he'd pay for his past sins like this, in some twisted way it almost seemed right for him to die at her rejection.

Her fingers cupped either side of his face as she stared deeply into those silver, steely eyes she couldn't banish from her mind. Her heart hammered violently in her chest, the sound echoing within her ears. Without warning she pressed her lips against his, devouring them with intense fervor. Much like he'd done in the past to her, she backed him into a wall while her fingers gripped the lapels of his suit jacket.

Draco blinked, hands moving to rest on her hip. He was unsure how to handle a rhapsodic Hermione but continued to follow her movement, groaning into her mouth as she took his tongue between her teeth to suck on it. His fingers groped her backside, kneading the perky flesh and grinding her hips against his while he nibbled on her lower lip.

Of all the ways he'd imagined her reacting to her outburst, this was most certainly now how he'd pictured it.

The Veela growled, carefully creeping out and taking control of the woman. Hermione let out a breathless gasp as Draco spun her around so that now she was pressed against the wall. She pushed her head against the wall, chest heaving at the feel of his hands all over her body. The witch shivered as his sharp teeth nibbled the nape of her neck. Her fingers danced across his shoulders.

"Draco, take me, please. Claim me," she groaned out.

He ceased his ministrations, inquisitive eyes searching her own. "Hermione, what—,"

She shook her head, fear dancing in her eyes. The witch pulled him towards her, lips tracing the curve of his jaw as she mumbled, "I couldn't bear it if you died, Draco. I—," she captured his lips in another kiss, fighting back the fresh tears that threatened to fall.

A constellation of emotions welled within the woman. She could not comprehend just exactly what she felt in that moment other than the fact that hearing him say that four-letter word banished any restraints. She did something she hadn't realized she'd been avoiding—she let the Veela in.

Draco pulled away from her, placing calming hands on either side of her petite shoulders. He watched curiously as she shivered under his gaze, wondering if she could sense that he was currently undressing her with his eyes. He brushed his thumb along her lower lip before cupping her face.

"Hermione, this is irrevocable. Once I claim you there is no going back. Is that truly what you want? To be tied to me for the rest of your life?"

She nodded, and without the slightest doubt in her voice she answered, "yes, Draco." Hermione pulled him to her once more, their mouths just inches away from each other. She groaned as he released a strong of pheromones.

"Do it now, Draco. I don't want any more time to be wasted. Please," she whispered, never wavering her gaze from his celestial eyes. She would accept him now and forever, knowing that what he'd said earlier was the wholesome truth—she was always destined to belong with him. No other man would ever be able to stake this claim. And Hermione wanted to spend the rest of her life studying the riddle that was Draco Malfoy.

The wizard, pulled her to him, his lips hungrily devouring hers. Hearing her acceptance felt inexplicably brilliant. He took hold of one of her hands and pulled her towards the door that lead them into the hallway.

"You deserve more than an office, Hermione. I refuse to initiate anything here." With a final peck, he pulled her along through the halls, silently grateful that it was so late. And it wasn't because he was embarrassed to be around her, Merlin, never that. It was simply that her endearing flushed state was an otherworldly appearance he wanted to keep to himself, like a secret whispered in the dark.

Once they'd made it to the Floo Network he pulled her into the archway, the powder already falling from his free hand as he shouted out their destination. The familiar green flames consumed the duo just as they kissed.

Stumbling through the floo, the giddiness that ran within the couple made it harder for them to remain graceful. Their lips never separated as Draco led the woman through his living room and into the bedroom. Tripping over the carpet, he wrapped a secure arm around her waist, enjoying the way she giggled into the kiss.

Merlin, he hoped that this euphoria would never end.

Her soft gaze caused a surge of happiness to swell within Draco's chest. He watched in silent fascination as her own chest rose rhythmically with every breath she took. His fingers wrapped around her wrist as he slowly pulled her lush against him. He could feel her blood swim through every vein in her body and as his fingers traced either side of her hips, Draco wanted nothing more then to nestle himself inside her veins himself, knowing he would be happy to swim through them forever.

His lips gently traced kisses along the curve of her jaw, pressing her against one of the bed's four posters. She curved her spine into him, her own fingers dancing on his chest. Draco grinned against the nape of her neck, giving into the Veela and releasing a wave of pheromones. The thick, dulcet air danced around her, seeping into the pores of her skin. She felt lax, shoulders sagging as she instantly calmed with a soft moan spilling from her swollen lips.

Godric Gryffindor, he smelled so good. She wanted to drown in the scent, live surrounded by the smell until she took her last breath. The array of emotions this man and Veela stirred within her made the witch want to sit down and write a long thesis on the matter and the comical thought of her doing so when she was busy being devoured by the most delicious pair of lips she'd ever felt made the woman huff out a breathless laugh. She shivered as his tongue traced the curve of her ear, enjoying the way he smirked against it when his fingers gripped her arse.

"Do you ever stop thinking, love?"

She moaned her response as he pressed his length against her core, grinding while his hands held her arse in place.

"Do you really have to ask?" She finally huffed out as her fingers lightly scratched his back in attempts to pull him closer to her. She needed to feel all of him, every inch and every crevice; her fingers would map him out with intricate detail until the memory of his body was etched into her bones.

Pearly, white teeth sank down into her bottom lip with anticipation. She’d managed to do some research on mating rituals but found them scarcely helpful. Male Veela were just not common enough to observe their behavior as opposed to their female counterparts. It meant she was not in control. And Hermione was seldom not in control, but as she felt him touch her with such care she knew there was nothing to be afraid of, not really.

Stilling his movements in hopes to admire how flushed she'd grown, a surge of possessiveness took hold. The look she was giving him was quite becoming on her, he silently mused. Her eyes were filled with intense desire, just as his. The inkling that her body was just as needy for his as he was for hers caused the Veela to growl approvingly, which only grew louder as she pressed her thighs together in hopes to relieve the tension that began to build within her folds. How wrong he had been to ever think this gorgeous, goddess of a woman could ever be demure in the aspects of passion.

Animalistic instinct took over and Draco succumbed to his untamed side, amber eyes engulfing any silver-blue that remained. The wizard took a step back from Hermione, his elegant hand outstretched for her to take. Burnished colored eyes that were glazed over stared intently at it before she inhaled the new wave of pheromones greedily.

"Take my hand, don't be afraid," he purred.

Without hesitation she slipped her dainty hand into his. His Veela released another dose of pheromones for good measure. The woman groaned out, knees buckling as the potent scent seemed to crawl into her skin. His free arm wrapped around her waist, pressing her flush against his towering frame before he claimed her lips again.

The kiss grew more feral—possessive. Sharp teeth that now looked like fangs nibbled on her bottom lip. Her hands gripped his shoulders, his own tracing her sides before he clamped his nails into her hips and ground his length against her heat once more. Her fingers moved to run through his platinum locks, her own hips grinding in rhythm as a gruff moan escaped her lips. She wanted him so much, it was becoming unbearable. She wanted to lose herself inside him.

Unable to resist the urge of claiming her any longer, he pushed the woman face down on the edge of the bed, limbs dangling over it. He was on her in an instant, gripping her hair and pulling it towards him so that her back arched. Her fingers dug into the silk sheets of his extravagant bed in anticipation. Flames of desire licked her body without mercy. She ached for him, and her lust only increased when she felt his wet lips against her ear, his tongue darting out the lick the curve.

"Will you submit to me?" he asked with a growl. His voice was gruff, an octave lower than what she was used to hearing and It was absolutely enthralling. The action earned a low moan from the woman and soon after she pressed her backside into his crotch. "Yes, yes," she rasped out, unable to conjure up a more intelligent response.

She could not think, she could only feel—feel his nails trace lines down her spine, feel them dig into her arse while he graced her with a grunt of approval. The Veela outlined the sides of her frame, each time pushing the peach-colored dress further up over her backside until the suddenly offending clothing bunched at her waist. Her skin was clean of any marks save for a pretty birthmark that lay snugly inside one of her Venus dimples. Draco traced it with one of his fingers, reveling in satisfaction when she shivered at his touch.

She smelled so ripe, so ready for him. Both man and Veela wanted her to succumb to the desire. He wanted her to grow dizzy with need. But mostly, he wanted her to _feel_ good.

His long fingers kneaded the flesh of her derrière, licking his lips in anticipation. Slowly, he dragged his fingers against the skin of her hips, over her stomach and past her navel until he reached what he desired most. He slipped two fingers into her slick folds, his thumb brushing against her sensitive bud experimentally. She groaned out, brows furrowed in pleasure while his teeth nibbled on her neck.

"No undergarments, Granger? My, my you are a naughty little thing," he breathed out.

Heat pooled within her folds at his words, finding his dominating demeanor absolutely riveting. How long had she ached for someone to take the reigns in bed and make her succumb to her own pleasurable unraveling? She groaned impatiently at the sound of his belt unclasping. It wouldn't be long now before he pressed his length into her and simply imagining it caused the woman to grow shaky.

"Draco, please, I can't wait any longer, I can't—,"

Uncaring of being gentle, his fingers gripped his shirt and ripped it open as the buttons popped out onto the floor. He pushed down his trousers, kicking them off as his hands spread her cheeks. Draco grew inflamed in desire, eyes taking in the sight of Hermione Granger kneeling on his bed, ready to be claimed by him. His fingers found her folds again and slipped into them as he stroked his length, moaning against her ear before aligning himself with her and pushing himself in.

Stars—Hermione was sure that a constellation of stars burst in her vision as he slipped into her. Instantly she clenched around him, earning a growl of approval from the man. But this was not enough. She needed more, much, much more right now. So she pushed her backside further into him, arching her spine so that he could go in deeper.

Draco growled, chest pressed against her back as he wrapped an arm around her naked waist. The other hand acted as a pillar against the bed. He pulled his cock out only to push it back into her tight, little cunt. It felt so good and the Veela within him reveled in the feel of his dick wrapped around her walls. No one else would ever feel how snug she was. No one would ever see her become so undone. He would kill anyone who so much as thought of touching his mate as intimately as he was in this very moment and the notion of this made him thrust a little harder into her, pushing his witch into the mattress with each thrust

"Mine, mine, mine," he growled fiercely with each thrust into her cunt.

Hermione could only gasp out in agreement. Her mind and body was ablaze with the delicious way he fit so perfectly within her. As soon as she thought he'd gone as deep as he could he would roughly push back into her, deeper and deeper claiming every inch of her until she couldn't think any longer—only feel.

His hand went to grip the column of her sweaty throat. One of his fingers rested on the tip of her lips and Hermione instantly swirled her tongue around it. Draco grunted approvingly as he continued to pound into her, feeling the familiar tension begin to build in his cock. He shifted them slightly so that he could stimulate her clit. His movements were teasing and feeling the pads of his fingers rub her sensitive bud in circular motions caused Hermione’s eyes to practically roll into the back of her head.

Sensing her climax nearing, Draco increased his pace. His fingers gripped her neck tighter, the hand that had once been buried within her folds went to roughly pull the strap of her dress down to reveal her breast. He toyed with the sensitive bud, his nails blooming indents into the flesh before his fingers pinched her nipple, rolling it between the pads. Draco placed his lips against the nape of her neck, pink tongue darting out to lick the inviting flesh. He could no longer hold it, with one final thrust he bit down hard onto her skin, earning a sudden scream from Hermione as she was possessed with both bliss and pain. The bite sent her over the edge of her climax and faintly she noted how she could vividly feel the venom begin to course through her veins. It was alive with hunger and with great avarice did it make an intrusive home inside her flesh.

Draco gripped her tightly against his sweaty frame as she twitched within his hold, the last of his seed filling her swollen cunt as his thrusts grew weaker until they ceased. The woman shivered against the towering frame behind her at the feel of the pad of his tongue that licked the marred flesh to heal the wound, leaving behind a faint silvery scar that would show the world she was forever committed to him. The Veela began to subside and Draco felt complete control once more. His hands gripped either side of Hermione’s shoulders, her frame sagging in contentment.

He pressed his forehead against her shoulder blade concentrating on the calming of her breathing. His whispered tone was filled with trepidation, "I love you." The words slipped inside her glistening skin, his fingers tracing her shoulder blades absentmindedly.

She pulled away from him, her eyes shining with unadulterated happiness as she turned her body to look at him. Even after the effects of her climax dwindled she still felt suspended in air and this feeling of completion was something she was sure she'd always feel.

"Did I hurt you?" He cupped her face with a delicate nature, steely, silver eyes searching her own for confirmation and the tender look brought out a soft laugh from the woman.

"No, no. I just—," she sighed out, her own hand running through tousled locks of platinum hair as she gazed into his eyes for a moment longer before continuing," I love you too."

His eyes grew bright at her words, planting kisses all over her face as he went to scoop her into her arms. He pressed his forehead against hers while she wrapped her arms around his neck. Draco spun them around once, earning a throaty laugh from the woman in his arms. He walked to the other side of the bed and gently placed her on it, eyes shining with mischief.

"Ready for another go?" He didn't let her respond, for no sooner had he asked did Hermione let out a squeak of surprise when he jumped on her.

They'd made love all night, slowly taking their time to become familiar with the rhythm of their bodies.

**Part VII: Epilogue**

A sea of blue eyes critically watched their guest. The emotions that flickered in each pair resonated from mildly curious to intensely upset. The room was quiet, so much so, that Draco swore they could hear his heart beating frantically against his chest. Life it seemed, had a rather dry sense of humor. Never in his days did Draco ever indulge the mere idea that he would one day find himself sitting at the Weasley's dinner table—and willingly!

He would have laughed if he hadn't been mildly intimidated with the fact that he was currently the cynosure of all.

Ginny sat to the left of her father, arms crossed over her chest with a knowing grin on her lips. She studied that faint scar on Hermione's neck that the others hadn't seemed to notice. Seeing it shimmer prettily against the light only fueled her smugness. She shot Hermione a wink, raising a slender brow after. Hermione frowned, returning the wink with a glare, silently informing her to keep her mouth shut or else.

Draco's fingers drummed idly against his trousers until he felt Hermione's own entwine with his. An instant rush of serenity replaced all feelings of trepidation. A new wave of certainty washed over him and he felt invigorated once more, certain of why he'd agreed to this endeavor with his mate.

Having had enough of the silence, Ron slammed a hand on the wooden surface. The action caused a stir amongst the quiet crowd. He stood from his chair, his blue eyes glaring at the opposing man. There was a very subtle sting that surged from seeing his childhood sweetheart with another. But for the sake of his friendship with the girl he supressed it and instead focused on the task at hand—ensuring Hermione was not tying herself to a twat.

"What are your intentions with 'Mione?"

Molly Weasley huffed, her hand slapping expertly across the back of her youngest son's head. "Ronald Bilius Weasley, you are most certainly out of line!"

"But mum!"

"Don't you dare talk back to your mother, Ronald, especially in the company of guests."

Silver eyes widened as the clan of Weasley's began to bicker amongst themselves. Hermione chuckled, leaning to whisper into her mate's ear, "this is perfectly normal, love, fret not." She squeezed his hand in reassurance, biting back the amused grin that threatened to bloom on her lips.

"Merlin," he mumbled under his breath. Such fatuous tendencies were unheard of in the Malfoy Manor. His father would have surely hexed him to Timbuktu in a heartbeat if he'd ever even considered speaking out of line.

Behind the chaos that ensued Arthur Weasley sighed and offered an apologetic smile to the couple. His gaze was curious. There was no malice to be held within his blue eyes. When the luminary man cleared his throat his family stilled. They watched as the eldest of the Weasley lot extended his arm across the table. It hovered above the worn surface just before Draco who eyed it carefully.

Hermione held her breath, her gaze on her lover. She'd give anything to know what he was thinking, and the more she concentrated on that notion, the more she realized she could _feel_ what he currently felt. She was at least relieved to know he was curious of the whole affair. Delight ran through her veins when the witch, along with the rest of the spectators, witnessed Draco Malfoy shake the hand of Arthur Weasley. Molly clapped with a beaming smile, her pretty blue eyes shining with unshed tears.

The pleased expression on Arthur vanished for a moment as his hold of Draco's hand grew firm. "Now, as my son was saying, what are your intentions with Hermione?"

Draco's hand her limp, glancing quickly at Hermione for moral support only to find her with her fingers pressed against her lips, biting back the laugh that was surely there. He glared with a subtle finesse that impressed her and returned his gaze to Arthur.

"Well, we'll marry as is the Veela customs and when she wishes, we'll have a traditional wedding."

"And kids?" Ron interrupted, glaring daggers at his former adversary.

No longer bothering to hide his distaste for the man, Draco frowned at Ron and spoke with a crisp tone meant to wound him, "I will not force Hermione to bear my children. She will be the one to tell me when _she_ wants to take that step. Hermione is a crucial asset to the Ministry and she still has a plenty to accomplish."

The witch in question could not contain the swell of pride she felt at his words. "Will that subdue any further inquiries, Ronald?" She asked, in an equally crisp tone as her mate.

Ron grumbled, taking his seat and crossing his arms like a child who just received a thorough lesson in discipline.

"But you can practice in the meantime, right?"

"Ginevra Molly Weasley, you watch that mouth!" Molly screeched through the laughter that bloomed within the room.

Before another scandal could break loose, Harry walked into the kitchen, smiling widely at the lot. Draco sighed out, leaning against the chair as the eldest witch announced it was now time for dinner. He was thankful for the distraction as the group took their proper seats. He looked over to Hermione who continued to smile lovingly at him.

She pressed her shoulder against his and mumbled out, "thank you."

He nodded, though truthfully, Draco would've done it all over again if only to see her smile at him.

*** &*&*&*&***

The luminous glow of the new moon splashed across the bucolic area, over the weeping willows that swayed in time with the caressing wind. The still lake shined celestially with the help of the moon's light. All was still apart from the couple who knelt before each other. A soft blanket served as a barrier between them and the cool grass. Draco placed a soft kiss on his lover’s forehead, marveling at the intricate braid that held her curls in place. He brushed an insurgent curl behind her ear before his fingers dragged down to the curve of her jaw, tracing her lips until they finally rested on the edges of her shoulders that hid under a white velvet cloak. It was held together with a brooch. Swirls of silver and amber danced within the item, not clashing, but moving harmoniously together.

A soft breeze danced around them as they regarded each other in comforting silence. Draco took her hand in his as he brushed his lips against her knuckles before placing her palm on his chest. Hermione took his free hand and placed it on her own chest. A blush crept on her features and she smiled up at his luminescent, silver eyes. The wizard held his breath for a moment, hoping to imprint the memory of her into the depths of his soul. There would never be another, and when she left this earth he knew without the slightest doubt in his mind that he would perish to follow her.

"As above so below, as within so without. And though the dead forget the dead in the depths of afterlife, even there I shall still remember my beloved companion." Draco’s lips curved into an accomplished smile, eyes twinkling with an unadulterated happiness that he knew would now always course through him.

He watched Hermione take a deep breath before reciting the same words to him. "As above so below, as within so without. And though the dead forget the dead in the depths of afterlife, even there I shall still remember my beloved companion."

They found themselves encased by an ethereal glow of light. An ineffable wave of warmth ran through their bodies and Draco swore he felt her soul caress his own, both knowing that from this moment on their sempiternal love would never stray. The duo watched in amazement as an amber light burst from Hermione's chest, Draco's own silver-colored light following suit. The strings of colors swam above their heads before colliding into a dazzling display of magic.

A comfortable heaviness settled within both their chests and instantly they could feel one another within. All the melancholy and bliss of each became encompassed within their ribs. Hermione's pain would now belong to Draco, just as his would belong to her—forever sharing their mate's burden and blessings.

The wizard cupped his mate's cheek while his other hand encased hers against his chest. He pressed their foreheads together for a pregnant pause before claiming her lips with his own in a tender kiss. He could feel his once lost vitality return with greater strength than before as it now mingled with her own essence. This delirium they'd been submerged in swelled their chests and pressed against their hearts. Draco carefully cupped the back of her neck to lay her on the blanket like a goddess on an alter, slanting his lips over hers again and again to bring out her delightful moans.

There, under the eyes of the watchful moon he made love to her, whispering promises of sweet affection he would make sure she would always feel. And together they would map out the constellation of romance, forever exploring the depths of their bond until their dying day.

 

_Fin_

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are love. Please comment here or on [livejournal](http://hp-creatures.livejournal.com/275184.html) for the author to see. Author will remain anonymous until reveals later this month!


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